A Day in Life of Cruiser Kirov
by AstraphU
Summary: A short SoL (kinda) story written to celebrate the launch day of Soviet cruiser Kirov.


Grey waves crashed against black cliffs, propelled by the chilling, northern wind. Mountains of water rose and fell, their white manes billowing and spraying on contact with the granite rocks supporting the shore. Seagulls struggled to stay in air, thrown and scattered to the chilly gale.

Four shipgirls in full rigging braved the elements, making their way across the angry ocean. They were at full alert; the Abyssals could lurk even so close to their base, especially with this weather making detecting them by aerial patrols next to impossible.

The formation was led by a tall, slender blonde. Her long coat and loose hair fluttered in the wind, pulled in all directions by the angry gale. Deep blue eyes vigilantly scanned the horizon, stopping from time to time to examine some suspicious point, only to move on once the danger was disproven.

Behind her cruised an auburn-haired girl. Her coat was thinner and shorter, and her rigging was more massive; larger turrets housed more powerful guns, and her armour plates were thicker than whole sections of the leader's equipment. Only a few centimetres of hair stuck out from beneath her furry _ushanka_. Her demeanour also differed; she seemed relaxed and calm - more like a visitor enjoying the sights than an actual warship.

Next came a stocky, short girl of surprisingly mature features. Unlike her comrades, she had no armament equipped - instead, the plating was almost absurdly massive for her size. Thick gloves were lined with steel plates. Similar panels covered her legs, and propulsion boots had an odd, bulgy shape. An aura of serene peace emanated from her figure, as if icy weather - or even the whole surrounding world - had no effect on her whatsoever. It seemed that, should her companions disappear, she'd just carry on with her cruise, all the way to whatever destination she had in mind.

Finally came a twin to the leading cruiser; same eyes looked from beneath _ushanka's_ rim, they shared the same figure, even their rigging was identical in form and armament. Differences laid in details; her long hair was weaved into a braid, swaying in the wind like a loose rope. Her attitude, while equally vigilant, was calmer; while the leader resembled a predatory bird searching for a target to hunt, the rearguard cruiser swept the horizon slowly and deliberately, like a searchlight.

"We'll be approaching the base in half an hour" the leader turned to the battleship. "How are you feeling, comrade?"

"Tired" the redhead smiled. "The northern passage is never a smooth one, especially in winter. Good I had Yermak with me on the way"

"That's my job, Seva" the short girl shrugged, metal plates clanking with her every move. "It's always better than the southern trip. Even after that whole campaign in Europe done, the route across Suez is far from safe"

"Not to mention poor Aurora is getting spasms every time anyone mentions crossing the Tsushima" the battleship chuckled, the sound surprisingly sweet compared to her outlook.

"Comrade Aurora has reasons to be worried" the leading cruiser snapped harshly. "That battle was a massacre. It's only natural she still doesn't trust the Japanese, even after over a century"

"Well, girl…" Sevastopol shook her head. "...first, I can't see our little Kirov bearing any scars from her stay among those monstrous samurai. And second, we're all in this war together. No need to stick to some silly prejudices when Abyssals are tearing our world apart"

"Hmph!" Molotov just scowled. "The Japanese are the Japanese. Always cunning. Never trustworthy"

Sevastopol shot an amused glance at Kirov, who just shrugged neutrally. Molotov will always be Molotov - expecting any change would be like expecting the sun to rise in the west one morning.

* * *

The breakwaters of Vladivostok base were massive. Walls of concrete and rock rose directly from leaden waters, with massive turrets resting on equally powerful columns reinforcing the barrier. Fully automated and coordinated by central radar, those emplacements laid in wait, ready to open fire at any Abyssal foolish enough to attempt to breach the port's defences.

"Beautiful" Sevastopol fawned upon seeing them. "We have only one battery at Petersburg… and it doesn't see much use. Mostly it's just left to rust"

"A luxury we can't afford on the frontline" spat Molotov, as if Vladivostok's location was the battleship's fault. "We hear them almost every day. And they only failed once so far"

"I hope one day those guns will serve their proper owned" sighed Sevastopol, suddenly losing the cheerful demeanour. A strange shadow passed her face.

"They will!" Molotov's attitude also changed, as if she absorbed the battleship's vigour like some energetic vampire. "Our grand sister will finally rise! Actually…" she suddenly turned towards the Sevastopol as they passed the entrance to the harbour "...you come here regarding _that_ project, right? That's the reason comrade admiral summoned you?"

"Yes. But I am not allowed to spill the beans without authorization"

"Understandable" Molotov nodded with approval "It's only natural"

"For such a hothead, you can be surprisingly considerate" a smile returned to the battleship's face as they approached the entrance to the docks.

"Naturally. All in all, I am the secretary ship. I don't need to pry on other people, if comrade admiral is going to share this info with me sooner than later!" Molotov boasted with a laugh.

Dumbfounded, Sevastopol looked at the other two girls. The icebreaker visibly ignored the whole situation, deep in her own world of thoughts, while Kirov just shrugged again.

 _That's my sister - you can't win_ , an unspoken comment seemed to hang mid-air.

* * *

Equipment fairies barely began decoupling their rigging when the small welcoming committee came to greet them.

" _Sestra! *****_ How was the journey? I was beginning to worry something ate you!"

"Gangut!" the auburn haired girl beamed to the other battleship, still immobilized by the weight of her equipment. "No need to worry, I'm fine! We hurried as much as we could, but you know how the northern passage is…"

"Cold" the icebreaker spoke for the first time since they entered the docks. "And icy. Like everything past the polar circle"

"You no say, you no say!" ignoring the fairies, Gangut hugged Sevastopol, almost bending the rigging in the process, and proceeded to pat Yermak's back. "Good thing you like this stuff!"

"Would be better without the Abyssals. Luckily no skulls to bash this time"

"We didn't encounter any resistance since we met up at the strait either" interluded Molotov, as Gangut proceeded to lock Kirov in a bearhug. "Is comrade admiral at his office?"

"Yeah" Gangut was about to finish the ritual by squeezing Molotov tight, but backed off seeing her steel gaze. "He's right there. At least was an hour or so ago"

"Excellent. I'll be taking comrade Sevastopol straight away. Sister, could you please take care for comrade Yermak?"

"Affirmative"

Vladivostok base was hardly a cozy place; grey concrete was ubiquitous, disturbed only by piping, cables and colour lines marking routes to base's different sections. The distant hum of the reactor permeated the air, its low rumble vibrating in walls and floors alike. After the sharp cold of ocean wind, the conditioned air smelt stale and artificial. LED panels lighting the walls left no room for shadows, giving the corridors a slightly surreal feel.

But for Kirov, this was home. And judging by Yermak's reactions - as far as the icebreaker could be read - she also felt pretty familiar.

"...the cafeteria is one level above us. It's got a view on Vladivostok proper, so you can enjoy the sights… as much as the city can compare to Petersburg" she continued her short lecture. "Barracks are divided by type and class, so if you want to meet anyone, it's best to search via central computer system. You will be staying in guest rooms - that's two levels below us. Pretty cozy and safe in case of air raid. We're using water from reactor's cooling system to keep that level warmer, so don't be surprised. Do you have any questions?"

"Don't think so" Yermak made a small, thankful smile. "I'll be going to check out those quarters. My back aches after the trip… Do you have a _banya ******_ down there as well?"

"Yes, although we a use different hot water source there"

"Oh" Yermak replied after a short pause. "That… makes sense"

It took Kirov a second to realise the unplanned joke. The slight widening of Yermak's smile made her feel better than she expected.

"If you have any questions or needs, please let us know. We have a base-wide intercom, you can make an announcement from every room"

"Will keep that in mind. Goodbye!"

For its size, the installation was pretty sparsely populated, especially compared to the crammed and lively Raiushima base Kirov spend several weeks in earlier that year. On her way to the barracks she met only a few people - mostly civilian drylander contractors from the city, and a pair of shipgirls; destroyers Vlastny and Spokoinoi, in their blue-white uniforms, made their way between the base's library and cafeteria, discussing some recent gossip. They cheerfully saluted at Kirov, while she just smiled back - unlike her sister, she preferred to relax formalities at home. As one old song said - _the crew was one family_.

Family…

Dark thoughts invaded her mind when the elevator's doors closed for a short trip between the base's levels. She thought about the war against the Abyssals, about her comrades, about her place in the world. Thoughts she didn't like, despised even - yet which returned every time she was alone, with her mind free to wander. About her sisters and comrades, both those present and… gone. Molotov, Kaganovich, Gnevny, Tashkent - seemingly random words and names of people long gone. Most drylanders didn't spare them much thought - to them, they were only weapons. Stalwart defenders against the threat the Abyssals posed - but just weapons. Only very few people saw them as human beings - with their own feelings, memories and dreams. Others eyed them with suspicion, sometimes even open fear. And such realization didn't make their service any easier.

The elevator stopped with a start, and doors opened. She stepped out, dark thoughts dispersed and scattered by her mind having something to do again - be it as simple as walking up to her quarters' doors. She input the code - and the steel slab unlocked, letting her inside…

...to a room seemingly completely different to the one Molotov and her occupied. Colours attacked her from all sides - reds, yellows, blues, greens. A wave of joyful cheer hit her like an ocean storm, confusing her for a second. Only after a while did she begin to recognize the people, sounds and shapes.

A bright cake, its icing red as the ruby stars of Kremlin.

Colourful balloons, floating just below the ceiling, trailing long tails made of orange-and-black saint George's ribbon.

Molotov, brandishing a huge knife in her hand, the cheer on her face disturbing in combination.

Admiral Orlov, his bushy beard shaking as he laughed at her surprise.

Gangut and Sevastopol - two completely different twins, sharing the same expression of joy and happiness on their faces.

And other, many other shipgirls, all crowding the room at impossible density, sitting on chairs, bunk beds, even tables and windowsills - all singing the same, old birthday song.

Stunned, Kirov just stood, unsure how to react. Seconds passed awkwardly, until the song ended and Orlov approached, his arms extended in preparation for a true, Russian bearhug.

"My apologies, dear!" he boomed directly above her ear "I kinda screwed up with timetables this month! To think you'd spend your birthday outside, in that dreadful cold… should've known better"

"I-it's nothing" Kirov peeped, desperately gasping for air. "I-I did not expect-!"

"Now c'mon!" the admiral let her go, only to make room for Gangut to hug 'her little cousin'. Past them, Kirov could see Molotov cut the cake in a series of swift, brutal chops. "It's definitely something! Look, even Kuybyshev came all the way from Novorossiysk!"

"Sama...?!" Kirov only now noticed the green-eyed cruiser grinning from the room's corner. "But… how?!"

"Simple as that!" Kuybyshev carefully stepped past the knife-armed Molotov and much less gently shoved Gangut away to lock the celebrant in an energetic, sisterly embrace. "After your Japanese friends wrecked the Mediterranean, we're basically sitting on our asses and get bored to death! You can't even imagine how I'm glad I finally got out of that shithole!"

"Oi, oi, oi!" Orlov shook his finger at Kuybyshev. "Guess I should let admiral Vera Ivanova know how-"

"It's her words, admiral. Feel free to call, just tell her I'm not coming back too soon!"

"Very well, very well!" Molotov rapped the knife's handle against the table. "Enough of these mawkish meet and greets, we have a cake to eat! One slice per person!"

A mocking - hopefully - mid-air slash marked an unspoken threat.

"And tons to drink!" Sevastopol cheered, pointing at the crate of bottles in the corner.

"And I prepared music!"

The room went silent at Gangut's declaration.

"You didn't…" Sevastopol asked weakly, as the other battleship made her way to the wall-built intercom panel.

"I didn't. Some other good soul here did. I am just…" she pressed the transmission button and rapped the microphone with her finger "...giving the signal. It's clear. Do your worst!" two last sentences were directed at whoever was sitting on the other side.

A single electronic beat from the speaker filled the air, followed by electronic pulsation.

"ANUUUUU-" a distorted voice announced, before the room was flooded with hardbass pounding.

" _DURAK_! ******* " Sevastopol yelled, barely audible over the music and laughing too hard to look sincere in her rage - or just stay upright.

Kirov also laughed, only harder once she saw Molotov's genuinely furious scowl. But even her sister could not resist the atmosphere in the room; before long she joined the goofy celebrations, if only in presence rather than active participation.

The rest of the evening was a blur, stretching from the base's hardbass-filled interiors to Vladivostok's chilly embankments outside.

And for the first time since a long time, dark thoughts did not return once Kirov closed her eyes to fall asleep.

* * *

 *** -** sister (rus.)  
 **** -** a Russian variant of sauna  
 ***** -** moron (rus.)


End file.
